


why can't we linger and dream, still?

by ArcReactorsandDragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Angst, Awkward Harry, BAMF Ginny, Blunt, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Ghost Harry, Horcruxes, I might continue, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's not all sad, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Oneshot, for now, its funny too, listen ik she's like 11 but also.. it made sense in my head, my kind of humour, the way she is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2020-10-17 23:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20629418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcReactorsandDragons/pseuds/ArcReactorsandDragons
Summary: "He can still hear though, and in the distance, hears his name (Harry, Harry, Harry) being repeated. Right, Ginny, this must be traumatising for her. A song fills his mind, and it's like every muscle in his body relaxes and calm washes over him. Until that too, fades away, along with his consciousness.Surprisingly, he wakes up. What happened when he was asleep, seems… odd, private, something he doesn't want to think about right now. Instead he focuses on his surroundings. He still in the chamber. There's a basilisk and a bird and a girl with red hair. And a boy drenched in blood with no rise of his chest. Oh. That's him. Wait, what? "





	1. Chapter 1

Harry clenches the hilt of the sword in both hands, and thrusts up into the roof of the basilisks mouth, with all the strength of a scrawny twelve year old filled with adrenaline. The Sword of Gryffindor cuts easily through flesh, and a curtain of blood dreches Harry. The huge head seems to collapse, and he struggles to find his footing to move out of the way, though Harry sees the last fading ember of life leave the overgrown snakes eye, it shoved it mouths closed around Harry's arm, a fang piercing his skin.  _ Oh no _ . Already it's agony, and he faintly registers the sound of more teeth coming loose and skittering across the floor as the snake crashes into the stone floor. Harry following not a second later. His arm is on fire, and not like it was in first year when confronting Quirrel, this  _ hurts _ more than anything the Dursley's ever did to him, it's like every cell, every  _ atom,  _ is alight in one function of experiencing pain. Tom Riddle is crowing about his victory, while simultaneously being scornful about the death of his Basilisk and insulting Harry perfectly. The black of death is so close, until Harry realises that he's just focusing on the black of the diary. 

“H-hey,  _ Tom”,  _ Harry rasps out, while Tom’s shade turns down to look at him, and Harry watches his lips form the words, ‘ _ I'm not Tom _ ’, and grasps a fang that had fallen behind him, his hand burning in the biting sting of its venom, “watch this,” and lifts his arm, screaming at the effort to do so, and slamming down on the diary. Black ink surges forth from the diary, spreading outwards. If it there wasn't the fact that it didn't shine, didn't reflect the torchlight, you could have mistaken it for blood. There's a sort of scream of something not human and Toms shade vanishes in a whirl of light and smoke contorting into itself, and a mirrored scream of a little girl across the room- Ginny! 

He'd like to go over there, my comfort her, tell her that Ron and Hermione are waiting just beyond those doors, but he can't seem to move his head. There's a bird now, a fantastic flare of fire, throwing everything in warmth. Fawkes lands on his chest, talons screwing into his robes as it finds a grip, and lowers it head over his arm. Something drops into it, something sparkly and radiating something  _ pure _ . At once his pain lessons, less like a forest fire and more like a fireplace. 

“Thanks, Fawkes”, he whispers, he can't see now, and the tang of blood that had risen in his mouth disappearing, he feels a weight settle on his chest, until that sensation falls away too, through he relishes in the comforting touch of the bird. He can still hear though, and in the distance, hears his name being repeated. Right, Ginny, this must be traumatising for her. A song fills his mind, and it's like every muscle in his body relaxes and calm washes over him. Until that too, fades away, along with his consciousness. 

Surprisingly, he wakes up. What happened when he was asleep, seems… odd, private, something he doesn't want to think about right now. Instead he focuses on his surroundings. He still in the chamber. There's a basilisk and a bird and a girl with red hair. And a boy drenched in blood with no rise of his chest. Oh. That's him. Wait,  _ what?  _

He glanced down, shouting out loud as he seems to be able to look at the floor. Through his feet. Through… all of him actually. And he doesn't seems to be touching the floor.  _ What in Hell.  _

He stumbles backwards, in a stupid attempt to get away from the fact that his hands are  _ transparent.  _ His legs push backwards, in a cycling pattern, pushing against air, and yet he still moving back. 

There's a short scream and Harry twists around to see Ginny staring at him, one hand clamping around her mouth, the other pointing out at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Harry?” She whispers through her fingers. 

“Ginny!” And he starts drifting forward, without moving his legs, “woahwoahwoahwoahwoah”, he stumbles to a hat in front of her, and despite the fact he  _ knows _ he should be asking if she's okay, the words, “ _ do I look transparent to you”,  _ burst out. She nods mutely, and he continues, “and is that really  _ my body _ , over there?” She starts to turn until Harry realising how horrible he's being along her to confirm that, “wait wait, you don't have to look, how are you? Did you get hurt? How long have we been down here?” 

Ginny takes a deep breath and starts answering the questions methodically, it's probably the shock, he thinks, “I'm…. not okay, but I'm not hurt, just hungry, uhm, I don't exactly know how long, but it must be more than a day.” She seems aware now that her hand is still around her face, and her finger is actually through his chest, and drops them hurriedly into a cross across her chest and her gaze focuses on him left arm, “Are… are you okay?” 

“I don't know.” She was still staring at him arm. “What's up with…  _ oh” _ . He's brought up his arm and is staring at it with Ginny, there's seems to be a literal hole in his arm, you can see through it, and not just because he is transparent. Where the fang went through, fractured the bone, and fragmented around the wound, blood bubbling around it. “Wow.” 

Ginny looks like she's going to be sick. She does when Harry pokes a finger through it experimentally, onto him. Well, it would be it falls through, and he shudders, finally understanding Moaning Myrtle. 

“Oh God, I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to!” She drags a hand across her mouth and takes a step back. 

“Please, don't mention it,” he cringes, and Ginny nods frantically back. 

He changes the subject, no wish to discuss his arm, or the incident of someone puking through him, “Should we get out of here?”

She perks up at that, “you need to do your snake-y thing at the door, I can carry the sword and the hat, and the bird can fly themselves out.” 

The bird? Oh, the bird. Fawkes. He glances around for it, and sees it napping on a overhang of broken rock from Slytherins carving, just in time to watch it burst into flame and fall to ash. Bloody hell. “You may have to carry Fawkes out in the hat”, he sighs. Of all the time for Fawkes to end his cycle. 

“You'll do no such thing!” A ratchedy old voice croaks out from nearby. Right, the hat could talk. “I am the hat of Godric Gryffindor, you  _ will  _ not be doing something so lowly as carrying a  _ baby bird _ in me”. Ginny moves over to a hill of rubble, and pulls out the hat. She bends down over it and picks up a rock, whispering to it, she motions with it, and gestures to the rest of the cavern. After a moment of silence, and then it shouts out the words, “Fine! The blasted bird can ride along.” 

Harry moves over (how does he do that?) to Fawkes with a satisfied look on his face, he doesn't know what Ginny said, but it was obviously a threat, and bends over to pick up the bird. His fingers pass straight through it. 

“Right,” the smile falls off his face in place of a annoyed frown, “I can't do that stuff, sorry Ginny.” 

Ginny seems to be hiding a smile when he turns around, coughing slightly, “it's fine Harry, I mean, you saved my life, I can carry a couple things.” 

He frowns harder, “but you must be so tired! You haven't eaten anything in ages!” She shakes her head stubbornly, “I can do this.” 

He sighs, but there's no other solution, and Ginny seems to see this as a victory, and starts gathering everything together, gently placing Fawkes into the hat, which was packed at the bottom with Ginny’s scarf, and then cradled into her arm, while using the sword as a walking stick. At Harry's look, she shrugs, “I might as well,” and he lets it slide, she right. At the last minute, she picks up the diary and shoved it in her pocket, along with the Basilisk fang. Together they set off together set off across the vast cavern, Ginny sloshing straight through the puddles. Commenting on the fact that's not the worst thing that's happened is not wet feet. Harry explains what happened after Ginny was found to be gone, about Lockhart being a phoney and his backfired Obliviate after they realised the truth. She is silent throughout. They end up at the door, and Ginny is panting, and Harry makes her take a break, she's gone days without food, as an eleven year old, and sicker up what remains in her stomach, and is now walking a very long distance. (Harry remembers the feeling all too well, too many days had been like that at the Dursley's). 

While Ginny is sitting on the floor, staring at the ground, Harry is still there just  _ floating _ , (and  _ God _ isn’t that weird to think about?), staring at the door in harsh concentration, willing the words in parseltongue (snakeything) to rise to his memory. The door is magnificent, he realises as he focuses on one tiny snake. Millions of stones are carved into snakes of thousands sized, entwined together in a complex that his eyes can't follow. Unbidden, the rasping hiss forms at the back of his throat, the words foreign and unknown yet understood, “Open, Forever. no longer shall the chamber be a secret, but free for Hogwarts, as it should have been”. 

His drawn out of his reverie by Ginny staring at him with an arched eyebrow, “I never knew you knew so much of the language,” 

There's a grinding sound of stone that signals the door is starting to open, “I don't, it's more… instinctive”, he shrugs, “I never learnt it, it's just there”. 

They turn back around to see the door open completely at 3 wands pointed at him. He puts his hands up in the air, “I swear I'm not the heir of Slytherin, this is just a coincidence,” then remembers that spells can't hurt him, and drops his arms, “also, uhm, surprise? Harry Potter’s dead and Ginny lived? You might want to carry her back, she tireder than she’ telling me”. Ginny glares mutinously at him. He lifts his arms again, this time in a ‘Well what can ya do’ gesture. “Wait, who are you guys?” 

There's a dim light, but Harry can make out their faces easily, and wonders if this is the perks of being a ghost. The man closest to him, seems to have lost more than enough flesh, a chunk of nose missing, part of an ear, not to mention a whole leg and eye. One other is one with flaming ginger hair that might be a relative of the Weasley’s, and a bald black man. The mutilated one speaks first, “we’re the Aurors,” he raised his wand higher, seeming unaffected by the fact that he's speaking to Harry Potter or a ghost. Harry likes this man already. “How can we be sure you're who you say you are,” he peers suspiciously, the fake eye swivelling around to look at Ginny too. 

Harry wonders that too, “well, uhm, my  _ body _ is back there? Next to the dead basilisk, can't miss it. And, we've got Fawkes with us, he's only meant to like good people right? I bet Dumbledore could confirm it,” glancing at Ginny, trying to hide a smile, who seems to be enjoying Harry's questioning. She doesn't like it as much when the man with startlingly bad fashion, (tan overcoat with a tan raincoat underneath, on top of a bright pink T-shirt that he can see poking out of the coat), grunts at Harry and turns on Ginny, fake eye turning on him. Harry waves at it. The black man walks up to Harry, looking very troubled, “Mr Potter, I’m Kingsley Shacklebolt, and this is Steven Weasley, and that man is Alastor Moody. Two days ago, Professor Snape And McGonagall found Miss Granger and Mr Weasley with Lockhart, saying you went on alone to save Miss Weasley, we’d like to take you up into the school- and Miss Weasley to the infirmary to answer some questions.” He looks exasperatingly at Moody, “ _ Auror Moody _ , I'm certain that the twelve year old isn't going to be hiding any weapons on her, stop badgering her, she needs a meal and her parents-” 

Moody turns around only to snap the words “ _ Constant Vigilance”,  _ and move on ahead of them. 

Steve Weasley takes the hat off Ginny, seeming surprised to find a bird in it, but keeps his mouth shut with an eyebrow raised, and moves to take the sword of her, but Ginny holds it tightly and glares at him. “You are  _ not  _ taking any more of my things,  _ Steven _ ”. 

He rolls his eyes, a light blush rising, “I'm an Auror now,” he hisses at her, “I was just trying to help”. Ginny turns her nose up at him and follows Moody. Harry trails after her, and after a few moments, he hears footsteps start up behind him. This area is all rubble, and they have to pick their way through, Harry realising this is where Lockhart obliviated himself. He finally realises the irony of that moment and grins, thanking the Angelina Ford for helping to break Ron’s wand. 

They come up to a large figure taller than Shacklebolt, (who was very very tall), and even longer, Harry almost goes for his wand, (not that it would help, not having a wand on him), before he sees the way it's hard and transparent. Just the Basilisks shed skin. He relaxes. (Only slightly). They move past it, the Aurors seem more relaxed than they should have been, but he supposed if they  _ were _ infancy guarding the doors like Harry thought they were, they'd probably have to make regular shifts. Still, the ghost notices, Moody’s wand is held at the ready in his hand, pointing suddenly at every sudden noise. Sometime during that long trek, Weasley says a spell, and a white animal- a sturdy looking retrieve- bursts out, he talks to it and then it runs off, in the direction they're heading. He doesn't comment on it.

They arrive at the long slide up, and the three Aurors produce shrunken broomsticks, and make them proper sized with a flick of their wands. Ginny ends up sitting on the front of the other Weasleys broom. They almost start to rise when Harry panics, “Wait!” He shouts, and they twist to look at him, Moody aiming his wand somewhere being him. Ignoring him, Harry continues in a small voice, “how do I get up?” 

Shacklebolt looks like he's trying very hard not to cry, either from frustration, or he believes Harry has forgotten he's a ghost. “You're a ghost, now, Harry, you can just.. float”. 

Harry twists his face up, hand fiddling with a flap of school robes around the hole in his arm, “Yeah… but… I don't know how”. 

It might have not been frustration before, but it is now. 

“Oh, um.” He can tell that the Auror is trying his best to think about it, and to be polite, “just think it?” 

“Right…”, And focuses hard, he never really thought about moving before, he just did, “ _ shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit _ ”. He's shooting upwards into the slide, leaving behind the four others, rocketing upwards, in a way he might have found exciting when he was alive, but now is just terrifying, “How do I stop!?” He shouts out, and comes into contact with the ceiling. Except he doesn't stop, he squeezes his eyes shot, and… he's floating again. There's a scream and a thud, his eyes shoot back open, he's in the middle of a class, Muggle Studies, fourth year, by the look of the computers in the corner and the size of the students. Ravenclaw and Slytherin. One of them had fainted, and more than one were looking faint and where gasping, close to a scream. 

“Sorry?” He wills himself to go down, and he does, through the ceiling…  _ floor?  _ The bathroom flashes before him, and now he's back down the slide,  _ shite,  _ he goes back upwards and stops, in the girls bathroom. _ Finally _ , he feels exhausted and he flops down on the floor. He's halfway through it, the tips of his shoes visible above the time, while Moody comes out of the gap between two sinks, landing somehow gracefully for the shape and size of him. “Got here safe them, Potter?” Harry doesn't even look up. That must be one of the most embarrassing things he's ever done. 

“Oh God,” he whispers suddenly, as Ginny lands with Steve, “I'm going to be here forever, I'm going to be making embarrassing mistakes  _ forever”.  _

Unaware of his life changing- _wait, death_ _changing_?- realisation, they carry on in a protective formation around Ginny, Harry trails behind them, looking at his hands, and then his arm. Will he become like Nearly Headless Nick? 

He becomes entranced with the way the flagstones flicker by through his shoes.  _ Oh god _ ,  _ I’ll be in school uniform for the rest of my life? Death?  _ It was a very brain exploding thing to think about, and he resolves to talk to one of the ghosts of Hogwarts. All too soon, apparently more time goes by that it feels like when one is experiencing an existential crisis, they arrive at the door of the Infirmary. 

“How do you think they're going to react?” Harry wonders outloud, “I mean, I’m the Boy Who Lived, now I'm just the.. the Boy-Who-Came-Back-To-Haunt-People!” 

Ginny stares at him, “Well, I took it pretty well”. 

Harry sighs back, “Yeah but you’re in shock, what's Hermione and Ron gonna think about the way I'm yunno…. see through”. 

She shrugs back, “Time to find out”. 

Shacklebolt pushes open the door, to reveal… a lot of people. It seems all the Weasley family is there, from Bill to Mr and Mrs Weasley, huddles together in anticipation, even George and Fred we're looking solemn. Hermione is there too, next to Ron, and a ragged looking man with scars on his face, standing next to Dumbledore, the twinkle gone from his eye. 

There's a collection of choked gasps as he and Ginny move forward, his hand lifted up in a tiny wave, and Hermione bursts out crying, along with, strangely, the scarred man, who looks absolutely devastated. Ron is griping Hermione hand tightly, close to his chest, looking like he’ll start in floods soon too. 

There's silent tears running down Mrs Weasley’s cheeks, matching the twins shocked expressions and strangely wet eyes. 

Harry realises what a pair the two must make, Ginny’s robes are dusty and covered in blood- from where he doesn't know-  _ oh,  _ his body- carry a sword that's much too tall for her, with a very casual expression on her face, which changes to huge relief as she sees her parents, and a ghost. 

He ushers Ginny forward to her family as best as he can- she seems to get the hint when his hand actually goes through the small of her back talks quickly, “look! It's okay! Ginny's fine, no harm on her I swear! I told you I'd save her”. 

This seems to only set them off further, Mrs Weasley clinging onto Ginny. HHarry is just bewildered, ruffling his hand through his hair-  _ oh no _ , too late, they've all seen the massive hole in his arm. 

A ‘sort of laugh, sort of sob’ catches his attention, the man is covering his mouth with a weak hand, having fallen onto one of the beds for support, “I-I’m sorry, it's just,” he sniffs wetly, he shakes his head abruptly, “I'm sorry, I'm intruding, I should go”. He stands up and slips out the room, pressing a hand to his eyes. 

“Uhm,” Harry says because he can't think of anything else to say, “I killed the basilisk too, turns out a shade of Voldemort was controlling it, there was no Heir of Slytherin.” 

There's still no reply from any of them, staring at him as if they can't quite believe their eyes. 

“Oh, and, Fawkes is a baby again, he's in the hat”. 

The hat grumbles slightly, from its place in Weasley's arms, “‘In the hat’… I helped a lot more than carrying that  _ chicken  _ up here you know”. 

Harry rolls his eyes slightly, “Ginny’s threat still stands”. 

There's no more talk from the hat. 

Harry moves forward until he's just in front of Ron and Hermione, “are you two okay? How long were you down there, Ron? Did Lockhart give you any more trouble? Did you wake up alright, Hermione?” He wishes he could touch them, they evidently wish the same as Hermione reaches out to brush his form with her fingers. They're shaking. They stop millimetres from him, then drop. Ron's fingers are white against Hermione’s dark skin, with her hand still clutched in his. 

They both nod, but Ron answers first, voice wavery, “I- I was fine, nothing Pomfrey couldn't fix,” He gulps, “Lockhart’s been taken to St. Mungo's….” he trails off, apparently looking for words, and Harry finally realises they're all wearing their own clothes, Ron in a maroon jumper with a golden R on the front, Hermione in a comfy looking turtleneck, frayed around the neck. 

Hermione takes over, sniffing and wet eyed, “Yeah… Madame Pomfrey fixed me up,” she gives a sideways glance to the nurse, loitering in the side of the room, evidently waiting for someone to need medical attention, from her poised wand and tray filled with potions on a trolley next to her, and continues, sounding choked up, “I… I don't know whether or not to feel glad that you found the clue,” a few tears slipped out, “h-how are you?” 

“ _ He’s dead!  _ That's how he is!” Ron bursts out suddenly, very distraught, “It's true!” Is the words the outburst is followed with, weakly. 

Harry realises he is going to be in so much trouble for this. 

  
  
  



	2. Stuff Your Mouth With Cotton

It turns out he's not actually in trouble because they can't do anything to punish him. Apparently, being dead, he's no longer a pupil of the school, so therefore they can't take points or put him into detention. Really, this death thing came with a load of perks, being at Hogwarts (his  _ home _ ) forever, but not having to be a student? Being able to do whatever he wanted? Amazing. Seriously! 

Although, it seemed emotions were still a thing that continued to overwhelm him at the most inappropriate of times. For example, he was still able to feel almost  _ obnoxiously  _ guilty, for reasons he didn't even know. He'd found out soon after Ron's outburst, that Mrs Weasley, (and actually most of the Weasley's, and Dumbledore. And Hermione. And the weird scarred man) was crying for  _ him,  _ as well as Ginny. And,  _ boy _ if that didn't make him feel guilty, he was meant to make it better! And it just ended with so many people  _ crying _ . Over him! 

And when he tries to reassure them that he didn't mind dying- it was bound to happen sooner than later, especially at the Dursley's- it just made them look  _ sadder _ . 

He honestly isn't sure what to do. 

PAGEBREAK

Harry meets Remus Lupin. It's an awkward affair, and Harry realises he's probably going to introduce himself more as a dead man than alive. He doesn't know what to think of that. It went something like this: 

Mr Lupin has slipped back into the Infirmary a while later, once Ginny was forced into a dreamless sleep and given many potions, quietly standing against the wall, Harry doesn't realise he's actually there until Dumbledore has led him over to him. Hermione was sent back to the dormitories with a dreamless sleep potion with Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s (in school). 

Dumbledore leads Mr Lupin forward with a hand on his shoulder, as of this middle aged man is a school child as young as Harry. (Harry observes later, that Mr Lupin is not actually that old, just aged). 

“I’d like to introduce to you, an old friend of your Father’s, Remus Lupin”, Dumbledore speaks with a great calm that seems to be false, the twinkling in his eye no longer seems merry, but the shine of unshed tears. It's strange seeing the headmaster like this, like seeing God on their knees. But right now all emotions seem absent, his attention zeroing in on this connection to his father. 

“You knew James?” 

CHANGE IN POV

It's too much in one day. He was dragged out of the middle of Wales, by Dumbledore, with nary a warning, to see his dead best friend’s dead son in ghost form in front of him. Now Dumbledore’s introducing them. And Harry's eyes were shining as much as they could in the dull of the dead, asking after  _ James.  _ (To Harry, apparently James wasn't ‘Dad’, James never really had the chance). 

He tries to push away the memories, feeling like dementors are surrounding him, speaking slowly, (otherwise he might start crying). 

“Yeah, I knew him, as Dumbledore said, best friends, throughout all of Hogwarts.” A small gulp of air, Harry is  _ floating _ , a  _ ghost _ , “met on the train as First Years.” Remus takes the chance to  _ look  _ at Harry, as Dumbledore ushers them to a private room on one side of the Infirmary, “The best man I ever knew”. 

He's transparent, Remus can see the flagstones through his torso. “He looked so much like you,” he comments, only slightly sadly. And that's true, Harry's colours may be dull, looking like the sun has bleached the colours from all of him, skin that would have been a copper colour, hair black, and eyes green as Lily’s were. He's too skinny though, through the robes, the hollow of his cheekbone is too apparent for a -dead- twelve year old, same with his collar bone, it shows where his robes has been slipping off his shoulder. “You look a lot like Lily too though.” 

Harry perks up even more at that, arms gesturing widely as he asks a question. And Remus answers. Harry's nose looks like Lily’s, the same tilt and shape, and it's not just the colour of his eyes, but his eyelashes that match Lily’s, long enough to make girls be jealous of them when he’s older. (Not that that can happen now). 

They spend a lot of time in that room, talking about the past, Harry mentions some of his childhood, “Petunia and Vernon were good enough, and as much as I love Magic, I actually enjoyed the muggle subjects at school.” 

It doesn't escape Remus’ notice that Harry calls his Aunt and Uncle by their first names too. They never earned the title of Aunt or even mum, Uncle or even dad. That they were “good enough”, and Remus wonders what that actually means, that they were good enough replacements for parents? That they were good enough at keeping him alive? He needs answers, he knows  _ now  _ is not the right time, but when is the right time? It's not like Harry is ever going  _ back  _ there… Harry carries on talking, seemingly oblivious of what's going on inside his mind. 

PAGEBREAK 

It's his funeral. Which is strange. It turns out being a ghost has some perks, mainly a slight sort of magic, being able to transfigured his clothes in a slight way- something McGonagall taught him. So now he’s wearing a black suit that fit better than any of his normal clothes. And now he is sitting in the front row of his funeral, next to Hermione and most of the Weasley family- it seems they were surprised when Charlie showed up, wanting to pat his respects to the boy who helped smuggle a dragon out the castle- and the teachers. 

He was surrounded by black. He has never been to a funeral before, and never realised how…  _ dim  _ it felt. It all felt a bit awkward, out of place, he wants to desperately shout at everyone to cheer up, it's not like he's actually  _ gone,  _ is it? A lot of it is due to the fact Dursley's didn't  _ want,  _ no.  _ Couldn't be bothered _ to attend. This had raised some questions and well… what they found out wasn't pretty. Rumour had spread and now… if no one feels sorry for him, now they do.

McGonagall has a permanent tissue in her hand, most of the teachers look so different. It's not the first time a pupil has died in the castle, but Harry is The Boy Who Lived, he survived and died for someone else. Only Snape doesn't look different, apparently the snarl etched on his face  _ is  _ intact permanent. Since his usual robes are black, Harry almost expected him to wear something else at his funeral, but nope, the same black robes. 

But it's not just the teachers, it's  _ everyone _ , people from every year and every house are there, not because they liked him, (very few people actually  _ liked _ the boy who had too much spirit for his own good, who did his best to make everything right), no. They came and mourned and grieved because they were  _ guilty _ . Draco Malfoy is day somewhere near the back, his parents beside him, they don't have seats; instead they are standing formally, and Draco looks uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Harry wants to talk to him. But he doesn't. Not for now. 

People find it disconcerting when the ghost of the person of the funeral your attending talks to you.

It's not like it's a surprise, especially when many of the students he knew burst into tears when he moved to say hi to him, it  _ is  _ a surprise that the other ghosts of Hogwarts have also gathered, floating at various levels, even Peeves was standing respectfully, mouth shut and eyes lowered, though Harry often catches a glimpse of mischief in them. 

Dumbledore is speaking, something about courage and love and Hogwarts. He tunes it out slightly, it’s a bit surreal to hear the eulogy made  _ for  _ you. 

The rest of the funeral goes by in a blur. He's buried in a small graveyard on the grounds that he's never seen before. A small simple grave under a tree in full bloom. Petals are already drifting down to land on the freshly turned earth when everyone leaves. 

There's a wake afterwards, inside the Great Hall that makes him understand why the other ghosts hold birthdays with half rotten food on display. His last meal was the treacle tart at dinner, and though he isn't actually hungry… by Merlin does he want to eat. It's odd, deprived of food all his life and never wanting a huge feast, he wished nothing more than to eat the entire buffet available. Maybe it's to do with the fact that he's never going to be able to eat again. Ever. It's a strange feeling. Not being allowed food vs not being able to eat. 

Harry ignores it for now and enjoys his party. 

The wake ends. And he's left alone. Well, not really, his friends are ushered away by their parents, and all the teachers leave to pack up for the summer (a student died, the school shuts down early. And resumes as normal in the summer. There's something wrong about that, he's sure, but he can't keep his mind still enough to figure it out). All that is left are the ghosts. 

Harry knows they’ve been waiting to get him alone, not in a sinister way, more of a “welcome to the undead club!” Sort of way. It's still uncomfortable. 

Peeves approaches first. Moving in the dizzying way he does, flitting this way and that, still in that mocking voice that seems a touch less… mocking that usual. “So little Potty’s one of us now?” He swoops in until they’re eye to eye then just as quickly moves back out, “this'll be interesting!” He crows, “imagine all the tricks we can do! The professors will never see their lil,  _ defenswess potty wotty _ will be be the cause of it all!” Peeves cries out in glee and shoots out of the Great Hall, off into a shadowy side corridor to scheme. 

“Ignore him,” it's a voice he's never heard before, male, gruff and low. He looked away from the doors and to the owner of the voice. The Bloody Baron. 

Harry's mouth actually drops in shock, he might not have been in the school for a long time, but he knew enough to know that the Baron  _ never  _ speaks. The Baron is  _ scary _ , not the scary he's used to, but unsettling, like Snape is. Strong stern featured and dark eyes. His face is blank but his next words show empathy, and perhaps... slight respect? “Welcome, child. We know how it must feel, to have one's life short, though perhaps not as short as yours. We will accompany you when you need it, anywhere but off the school grounds. We are tied to the grounds. And maybe you could show us the chamber in which you slayed the Basilisk. And us in turn tell you our stories.” 

He pauses, and if he were alive, would've taken a breath, instead he just stops, and turns away to stand next to a pretty ghost, murmuring to her.

Fat Friar takes his place. “Hello Harry, I must say, you would have made a wonderful Hufflepuff, but you are a wonderful Gryffindor.”

“Don't you mean 'was'?” Harry asks. He wants to ask a lot of questions to the ghosts. (You know how you breath on impulse, but when you focus you suddenly can't? Why is it like that with talking as a ghost. Naturally not taking a breathe to speak but when you focus find yourself stuttering, trying to pull in air but  _ can’t.  _ Am I bound to Hogwarts as you are? When will the numbness fade? _ ).  _ But satisfies himself with just that one. 

“Oh, my boy. You never stop being a Gryffindor, your House would have stayed with you when you graduated Hogwarts too. Death is not that different,” the Friar speaks with a small understanding smile. “Now! For introductions! I'm the Fat Friar, as you know, that is the Bloody Baron, and next to him is Lady Grey, Ravenclaws ghost, students don't see her often. Nicholas could not join us today, as he is still,” he falls silent, as if in mourning, “petrified, as you know. And that,” he goes on, naming more of the Hogwarts Ghosts. Harry recognises a few from Nearly Headless Nicks Death-Day Party. 

After introductions, Harry asks the question he wanted to know most. “So where do you go, at night?” For the past couple days he's just been in the med-bay, in a sort of medicine state. 

“Anywhere you like,” this time it's the Grey Lady that speaks, her voice is soft and barely audible, but draws attention the moment a syllable is uttered. “I often stay in the Room of Requirement, you are welcomed to stay their if you like. Most of us just wander around the lower area of the school, the Dungeons, where students don't often wander.” 

“Of course it's summer now,” the Friar interrupts, “so there are no students about, and we go wherever we wish.” 

“Thank you,” he directs his thanks to the both of them, and wished he could listen to the Grey Lady's voice more. It's soothing, like a lullaby.

“May you show me the Room of Requirement?” He asks politely as possible. 

She nods her head, and whispers something to the Baron, before gesturing for Harry to follow. “We will be excused now.” She addresses the party as a whole and moved off as fluidly as the wind. Harry dips his head and shoots after her as to not be left behind, hoping his sudden leaving won't offend any of the ghosts. 

He slams to a slow once he realises he actually ended up further forward than her, and waits for her to catch up, “Sorry,” he apologises quietly, it seems like she wouldn't appreciate any loud noises, her aura radiating peace and quiet and he didn't want to break it, “I haven't got ahold of moving like this yet”. 

“It is expected,” she replies, her voice loud in the silence of the castle, “you are but young in age and as ghost. It would not do to dwell on mistakes.” 

“Oh, uh, thank you.” His stumbling ways are out of place next to her, “What exactly is the Room of Requirement?” 

“It's a room that adapts to your needs, just stand in front of the door and wish, and it will become whatever you want.” 

They stop in front of a blank wall, and Harry realises he has no idea where they are. The Lady answers his unspoken question. 

“We are on the seventh floor. The door will appear when you wish. This is the room I often frequent.” The ghost gestures with an arm and a door appears, it opens automatically and she glides through, “come.” 

He does so and gasps(or he would have if he could breath. Instead his mouth just gapes open like a mockery of a gasp). The room is huge, towering stacks of everything, placed anywhere and everywhere. Harry glides forward more, inspecting the pile closest to him, it almost reaches the ceiling. Diaries and boxes, a broken quill and a forgotten trunk. Treasures and troves for no one but the lost. 

“Students find this room, they always do, at some point, not all of them, never no one. They leave a token, something they want to be rid of, something to be forgotten. Sometimes as a momentum of themselves.” She gazes up, and caresses a ball gown thrown over a couch, “generations after generation. Starting from the beginning of Hogwarts. Each finding an undiscovered place, usually none talk of it. They are wrong. I remember. We all do. I find that we,” she motions between them, and it's obvious she means ghosts, “are just that, a token of ourselves to be forgotten when our generation is gone.” 

She wanders further in, to a place only she knows of, leaving Harry to at the Room of Lost things, feeling more at home than he had since the start of the year. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would any of y'all be interested if this was turned into a multi chapter fic? Or maybe just one shots of his life in one fic.   
Thank you for reading!


	3. winter's nigh and summer's o'er (hear that high, lonesome sound)

The Order of The Phoenix is pulled together for the first time in 11 years. 11 years since Voldemort died, and The-Boy-Who-Lived earned his title. Pulled together to finalise the moment, to confirm that, Voldemort has truly been vanquished. The day is similar, almost.

Same overcast day. 

Same people left over. 

And the words hung in the air like last time, as if people can not truly believe it. 

“Harry Potter has died”. 

The words are announced by Dumbledore, except there is no twinkle in the eye, the proud but exhausted glimmer that meant the war was won, but there is still work to be done. 

Now there is only defeat. 

“Voldemort is on the rise and Harry is incapacitated. We know nothing of his where-abouts or who is with him. However, we do know this,” he glances briefly at Lupin, knowing how this news will affect him most, “Sirius Black is once more by his side”. Chaos break out among the table, Mrs and Mr Weasley are discussing things heatedly between them, worried about the safety of their kids. Those who are Ministry workers now are nodding evenly, they already know, gossip still flies in government settings. Snape is wearing a furious scowl on his face, he hated Black before he was found to be a traitorous felon who killed the love of his life. 

Strangely enough Lupin is wearing the same dark expression. Lupin is generally a peaceful soul, only when The Wolf is close to the surface, even then, he seems feral. Not this black rage close to the surface that seems ready to burst. 

“He will probably try to return to His Master, why he chose now we don't know..”, he speaks above the noise, “but he might try to seek revenge on those who imprisoned him. Azkaban might of hanged him, we don't know what he will do next…”

PAGE BREAK

It's the best summer he’s ever had. Quite literally. And he's dead. He's had two months to deal with it, and he's almost come to terms with it. Almost. 

It's odd really, he wanted to spend the summer last in Hogwarts for fear the Dursley's would kill him, and now he's dead and he's staying at Hogwarts forever. When that thought popped into his head he had started laughing. Overcome with hysteria, and needless of breath it lasted longer that should have possible. When The Bloody Baron found him he was sure he came across crazy, half bent over, one arm clutching at his stomach, the other braced against the wall, (a habit he had yet to break, trying to grasp onto physical objects), shaking profusely. 

But that was at the start of the holiday. Which had slowly turned into the best summer of his life. He didn't see the Dursley's once! Which was the best news he'd ever received, though it stung slightly when they didn't show at his funeral, he understood. They had taken him in when he was a baby, they had no obligation to attend his funeral. So it was fair, in a way that had shocked McGonagall when he told her this. 

She just doesn't understand that's the way it is in his family. 

Ron and Hermione visited lots, and he found he can play a few wizarding games even as a ghost. Wizarding chess is okay, as he only has to speak commands, Gobstones he was working on, making himself corporeal enough to hold them and throw. But, a few Muggle games were played too, hide and seek, tag (as they could feel when his form passed through them), so many that Harry never had a chance to play before and any others that Hermione could think of. 

His birthday was a bit of a downer. He had to remind them a couple days before, when they floo’d through for an hour, that they didn't need to get anything for his birthday, or Christmas, he can't exactly use anything now. That made Hermione’s eyes grow shiny with tears, and Ron to draw in a shaky breath. He supposed it makes it easier that Harry himself is still around, because they move on swiftly and on his Birthday the whole Weasley Clan comes over with Hermione and it's best birthday he's ever had. 

Another  _ incredibly  _ odd thing happened that summer. He became friends with Snape. Okay, not  _ friends _ friends. Not even acquaintances, or even liked. But tolerated.

It started with the hysteria fit down in the dungeons, happened across The Bloody Baron, the cold dampness inspiring his thoughts as he explored the belly of Hogwarts. The Baron it seemed had no tolerance for over-emotional forever teenagers, and left immediately, returning a couple minutes later with an annoyed looking Snape in tow. 

“Potter, as you are no longer a pupil of this school I am under no obligation to help you,” it seems to annoy Snape that he can no longer glare down at him now they're the same height as Harry floats. 

“Tell that to the Baron,” Harry gasps out, phantom tears drifting down his face, “besides, you never did so while I was alive? Why start now”. 

It isn't something Harry would dare to say to Snape if he was alive, but being dead, the worst thing he can do is insult him, and Harry can shoot away with no consequence. Anyways, Snape has never been  _ that _ scary. Harry was, after all, used to the way of Vernon, and the disapproving flares of primary school teachers who thought Harry was up to mischief. Snape was unsettling, yes. With a low tone of voice and insults cutting enough to draw blood, he was not someone to be crossed. But Harry has experience tuning out the insults, so, Snape? Not scary. 

Snape’s face doesn't change, not by a single breadth, but he does sigh, “Potter, believe me, I do not want to be here as much as you want to be crying as a ghost. However,  _ Dumbledore _ ,” he spits out the Headmaster's name as to prove he wasn't here by his own choosing, “believes that your mental welfare is something to be looked after.” 

“Mental welfare?” Harry starts laughing doubly hard, though he had just started to wind down, “my brains six feet below! I thought it was you that said I didn't have any brains when I was alone, let alone an illusion!” He gestures to his own body, he was back in the robes he wore when he died. Not of  _ his  _ own choosing, but he wasn't strong enough yet to change it permanently, though he would in time. 

Snape actually looks  _ pained  _ when he speaks next, his smooth voice still sounding like he was mocking you in a way you didn't know yet, “I still believe you don't, Potter. Facing a Basilisk on your own! I at least thought you smarter than that! No brains indeed.” He takes a deep breath, “you still have emotions. Not looking after them can cause you to be like Peeves”. 

At Harry's questioning look, he reply's, “A poltergeist, a menace. No real hold over yourself.” 

It was mildly disconcerting thatSnape didn't try to belittle for not calling him stupid for not knowing that. Thinking back on it later, he would find that throughout the conversation, it was the nicest Snape had been to him,  _ ever.  _

“Oh”. 

The Potions Professor shakes his head in exasperation, “Oh, indeed. Now come back to the Student Zone. It is rather unsafe for anyone not powerful enough to ward off magic creatures to be further than the Slytherin Dungeons.” 

Harry's head shoots up in alarm, laughter subsiding. “Magical Creatures? Why does Hogwarts have magical creatures in the castle? How can they harm me?” 

Snape pinches the bridge of his nose, turns and strides away, when he hears no movement, he looks around, Harry is right behind him. A look of realisation appears, he wouldn't hear any footsteps from Potter, who is wearing a confused look on his face. “It's too cold to stay down here much longer, Potter. You may not feel the cold but I do.” He knows is actually confused about the way he stopped suddenly, but he's not going to admit that he forgot that Harry was  _ actually  _ a ghost. “To answer your questions, you are a magical being, dead or alive, remember that Nearly Headless Nick was still able to be petrified by the basilisk.” His voice is in lecture mode, no room for interruptions or stopping, “they feed off the magic of the school, they pose no harm to the students, preferring the darker corridors, as long as we don't bother them, they won't bother with us, now.” He turns to look at Harry when they are at the threshold of the Dungeons, “go find one of the teachers who will  _ dote _ on you, for I most certainly won't.” 

Snape turns back around to his quarters, leaving Harry to drift thoughtfully back to the sunnier areas of the castle. 

PAGE BREAK 

The 31st of August, a day before the students of Hogwarts arrive to begin another school year. He’s been enjoying the lack of students, with most of the time spent by himself, hurtling down the corridors at top speed with no limit because he can't hurt himself, or jumping off the top floor, (which is many more floors up than people think), down the huge stairwell, passing through the stairwells, practicing to slow down before going to far down. He's fairly certain he scared McGonagall to death a couple times, he's almost surprised that that her ghost doesn't join him. 

He's talked to Snape a few more times, and though he's sure most of their conversations are based on pity, but he's almost come to enjoy the sarcasm filled conversations. They're not  _ really _ conversations, rather just snark filled comments passed by when he passed Harry doing anything. Like the first he witnessed Harry plummeting down, then stopping a second too late, so he ends up with only his head and shoulder appearing above the ground, as Snape passes by towards the greenhouses, to his credit, he doesn't even blink. 

Just a, “One would have thought you could have gained maturity dying for a second time, Potter.” Before he continues on his way. 

He's had more conversations with Lupin though, and he wishes he could have met him before, and given him a hug. He often just looks sad, so  _ sad,  _ Harry just does all he can to make him smile, and Lupin tells him more stories about his mother and father. How his dad was just as good at Quidditch, (though he heard Harry was better even at a younger age). 

Every moment spent with Harry feels like forgiveness he doesn't deserve. Every time he looks at his face, stretched into a smile that brightens up his pale face, into something that seems more… more  _ saturated _ , more  _ alive,  _ he just feels guilt that threatens to overwhelm him when he remembers how he left Harry for  _ eleven _ years without so much as a letter… 

but he keeps telling stories that make Harry smile, and he can forget for just a while that it hasn't always been like this. That makes him want to unleash the wolf on anyone that made Harry's life hell, like the Dursley's. Every fly away comment Harry makes about them, how he'd never made any friends in Primary school, (“I never had the chance, ya see. Dudley threatened anyone who tried, but I was okay, really!”), how he was deprived of food,(“I didn't eat much, ‘cause I didn't always manage to finish the chores in time, but I loved the gardening, I always loved that”), and so much more.

At the moment Harry was telling him how he caught the remembal, when Malfoy threw it in an attempt to one up him, and McGonagall came storming out, (“she went to Snapes class and asked for ‘Wood’! I thought she was going to punish me!”). He smiles and laughs as Harry does, but inside he's raging. He wants to storm up to Dumbledore and ask how in  _ Merlins name did he ever come to the conclusion the Dursleys were fit carers, when they made Harry think he was going to get beaten?  _

The only thing that consoles him is that Harry is never going near them again. He can't right any wrongs for the moment, all he can do is make Harry smile. 

PAGE BREAK 

It's odd seeing it from the other side. (Pun not intended). Seeing 2nd year and up file in and laugh as they find their seats, looking up expectedly to see the teachers and glancing at Lupin, obviously wondering who that is. Looking up, looking glad to be under Hogwart’s skies. That's where Harry is, amongst the candles and fake stars, barely visible. It's just as wonderous from up here, the magical sky, like you're actually floating through space, it's the closest he'll be to the stars, he thinks. But it's beautiful. 

Ron and Hermione are looking around, he can see them, bright red hair and frizzy black hair, opposite Neville's neatly combed head and Dead and Seaumus’ close heads. 

The First Years are being ushered in, whispering nervously amongst themselves, until being shushed by Hagrid. One by one, they’re called up, and Harry cheers for every House. He catches a few confused students looking around for the shouting coming from the sky, but they shrug and turn back around. 

Once everyone is sat down Hagrid and McGonagall included, Dumbledore stands, he makes the usual speech, ‘No merchandise from Zonko’s Joke Shop are to be used, no spells in the hallways, the Dementors are here for your protection, try to stay away from them, we will be issuing extra chocolate for those who need it’. 

The last statement is the one that catches his notice. Dementors? What’s a Dementor? What are they protecting him from? He has no time to think though, because Dumbledore is announcing him, “and of course, we have a new addition to the castle, someone who sacrificed themselves selflessly for this school and the people in it, Harry Potter. He will be joining us for the feast,” murmurs of excitement rifle the crowd,”But not until later.” Audible groans of disappointment are heard.

Dumbledore says his magic words, and food appears on the table. Their disappointment at not seeing The-Boy-Who-Is-A-Ghost quickly vanishes as they dig into the feast. He watches the House Ghosts rose through the table to greet the First Years and Nearly Headless Nick does his famous trick. Now it's his turn, he might not have been that outgoing alive, but he always tried to be friendly, and being a ghost just made him feel more.. free, more confident to  _ be  _ confident inform of other people. 

He dives down to sit crosslegged on a bare bit of table. Grinning as he hears Ron and Hermione call his name.

“Hello!” He smiles reassuringly at the First Year who almost spills Pumpkin Juice all over herself. 

“Hu-hullo”. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts! I loved it as a First Year, it was great! As long as you don't get on the wrong side of Snape,” he advises them, getting to his feet to float further up the table, “read the first chapters before lessons, you’ll thank me later!” He laughs as he feels Snape glaring at the back of his head. He ignores him and the chatter of First Years to settle next to his friends.

“Hey, guys!” 

He gets a chorus of ‘hullo’s’ in return and asks about their holidays, Dean, Seamus and Neville still look stricken at the sight of him, and after an awkward silence began to explain, and suddenly it was like old times, making fun and laughing at the Death Glares Snape would give at the Gryffindor table, Hermione butting in to give a lecture about this years learning and rumours about the new Defense teacher. 

“He looks  _ poor _ ,” is overheard from one of the younger students who evidently hasn't learned yet that Fathers Money isn't going to carry you everywhere. 

“At least he'll better that the last two!” Hermione exclaims.

“Yeah”,Harry stifled a laugh, “But anyone can beat Voldemort and a phoney!” 

Ron looks discomforted at Harry saying His name, but gives a genuine laugh. 

Once the laughter dies down he asks a question, “What are dementors? What're they doing here?” 

Hermione gasps at once, “We forgot to tell you! A dementor came into our carriage, almost got to Lupin before he cast a spell at it!” 

“It was awful!” adds Ron, “Like all the warmth had been drained out, thought we were gonna get the Kiss!” 

Seamus nods in agreement, “They passed by our carriage, it's awful. They looked like the Grim Reaper!” 

“But what are they here for?” Harry pushes, “What do they do?” 

“*A Dementor is a gliding, wraithlike Dark creature, widely considered to be one of the foulest to inhabit the world. Dementors feed on human happiness and thus generate feelings of depression and despair in any person in close proximity to them. They can also consume a person's soul, leaving their victims in a permanent vegetative state*…” Hermione starts speaking in the voice that meant she was quoting something verbatim, but she trails off when she notices some of the lower years staring at her in fear, whether in anticipation of the day when the would have to learn like that, or of the descriptive words themselves, Harry doesn't know. “What! I started to read about it as soon as we saw them on the train!” 

“But that's like fourth year stuff!” Dean exclaims, looking mildly impressed- and scared. 

“So I bought a couple years in advance! It pays to be prepared you know,” she pushes her nose up in the air, “to answer  _ your  _ question, Harry, they’re making sure Sirius Black doesn't come into the castle, he might be out for revenge, he might not even know you’re, uhm, a ghost now.” 

He tilts his head and absentmindedly starts to bob up and down in his seat, “Who’s Sirius Black?” 

The rest of them exchange nervous glances, and Neville mumbled out a, “he didn't know?” 

“Maybe it's best to tell ya in the common room, alright mate? Not exactly dinner talk,” Ron says. 

And he lets it drop, surely if it was that important someone would have told him sooner, (maybe not a little voice in his mind says, what about his parents? What about the Philosopher's Stone? Or Lupin?) 

  
  


They tell him later, when they're close to the fire and the hum in the common room is loud enough to drown out anything unsavoury. Harry is shocked, enraged, wants to run out their and  _ do  _ something, but he  _ can't.  _ “Next time I won't be so self-sacrificing,” he mumbled to himself. 

“What was that?” Hermione asks. 

“Oh, I was just wondering how if they were such close friends they would have turned on them.. I mean, you guys would never do that, would you?” 

They shake their heads immediately, “of course now!” They chorus.

Ron adds, “Just shows how the Blacks will always be crazy!”

Harry doesn't question that, instead formulating to look it up later, to ask Lupin or Snape. (Maybe not Lupin, considering how close they are, so probably Snape). He might not have work to do anymore, but he knows they probably won't have read through the books for this years classes yet. 

He moves on instead, “What are you doing in this years classes now? What have you all picked?” 

He listens to them all each, noting Hermione has picked more subjects that her schedule would allow, and imagines he was alive, picking subjects with them, discussing how he wished he could drop Potions to avoid Snape. he lets the words sink into his brain and just  _ be’s _ . 

PAGEBREAK

It's Halloween, and Harry is touring the castle. Drifting this way and that along the unlit corridors, he enjoys sometimes acting like a proper ghost, one that has been dead for centuries not months, it's almost fun, it a twisted kind of way. The Halloween feast is on, but they're arguing about Crookshanks and Scabbers,  _ again. _ Since he doesn't  _ actually  _ eat, he skips the feast in favour of wandering the halls. 

He's so lost in thought, he almost doesn't notice when he passes through a dog.  _ Wait.  _ A dog? Dogs weren't allowed pets? He's stopped halfway through the creature, who seems to have stopped dead at the sensation of a ghost. 

“Who do you belong to?” He coos, moving backwards to look at them properly, he checks quickly, it's a him.

And he's a mess. Thick matted hair that would probably stink if he had a sense of smell, he seemed to be only skin and bones, his ribs stuck out far from under the skin from what he could see in the baldish patches over his body. 

“Oh! You're a stray who wandered in!, aren't you a darling! What a handsome boy,do you want to get something to eat with me?” He holds out a hand, for the dog to sniff, regardless of the fact he doesn't have a sniff. 

The dog is staring at him oddly, though his ears perked up at ‘food', “yeah that's right!” He says in the same crooning voice, “let's go to the kitchens,” he makes a clicking noise and started towards them, “come on! Yes!” The dog had started to pad forward cautiously. He'd found the kitchen by accident one day, falling through wall while exploring and startling the Elves. (Dobby was down there too. Now  _ that  _ situation was a mess). 

Once he was confident the dog was trailing behind him, be it looking  _ very  _ confused, he started talking, hoping he'd calm down the anxious creature. 

“What should we call you? You don't have a collar on so I bet you haven't had a name yet. How about… Scamp?” The dog shakes suddenly, making Harry laugh, “guess that's a no. Well, you're a dark dog, how about Ash? No, oh! I'm a Potter, so you should be Carpenter!” He giggles loudly at his own joke. He stopped when he realised the sound of claws on flagstone stopped. 

“What? Do you like it? Do you… somehow recognise Potter? That's me, by the way, Harry Potter-” the dog whines loudly, barking furiously, “hey, hey! Calm down, Carpenter! What's the matter boy?” 

Carpenter was staring at him, an inexplicable grief in his eyes, and if he was human, Harry was sure he would be crying. He crouched down, wishing he could stroke him, “what's the matter?”

What happens next is the most exciting thing that's happened to him since he died. Instead of a dog standing in front of him, there's a man, taller than Harry when floating, the same dirty matted hair, and heartbroken eyes, he's right, there are tears falling through the grime on his face. He's wearing the most disgusting robes Harry has ever seen, that show his skinniness as he takes a step forward and Harry shoots back up to a stand and takes a step back. 

“Harry…”, he's got a posh English accent that's gravely and raspy, as if he hasn't used it much. “Wha- what’s happened to ya?” 

Harry is too stunned to breathe out anything but a drawn out, “Cool”. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay bear with me, this chapter was really just to develop the background and characters. It's not gonna be a huge AU in the years, well, I meant the same SORT OF events happen, but it's a surprise how (considering he's a ghost). In the next chapter we'll have some action ;))


	4. the way is dark and long (we're already gone)

“So… who are you?” Asks Harry Potter after a long,  _ long _ moment of silence. 

Sirius just stares back at him, the ghost of his dead best friend’s son has marked his transformation ‘cool’, and asked who  _ he  _ was. He honestly doesn’t know how to react, which was possibly why he is doing nothing but staring at the pale figure before him with one arm outstretched, one finger pointing towards Harry. He would blame his more than a decade long vacation in the soul sucking destination known as Azkaban, but that made him more prone to fits of extreme emotion, not the low empathetic, “what the fuck”. 

First of all, Harry is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Harry is dead. He is a ghost, in front of him. (Maybe if Sirius repeated it enough, it would seem real, it would seem tangible, a something he could  _ actually  _ predict, unlike the way he was framed as a traitor with no trial.) 

Harry is dead. (His plan didn't seem to be working.) 

The baby boy he'd transfigured a teddy bear for, the almost toddler in his arms chewing on his long hair. Babbling nonsense while Sirius pretended it was an actual conversation. 

(“Baaaaahahabahhh”, “of course, Harry, I utterly agree, your Dad  _ is  _ an idiot sometimes”. (This was the time that James forgot to warm up Harry's milk before feeding him. Harry has scowled in a way that was all Lily and looked indignant in a way that was all James). 

This boy is dead, and Sirius  _ didn't know _ . He doesn't know when  _ it  _ happened. The boy in front of him seem too young to even attend Hogwarts, but his eyes seem too old for the young body. Old enough for death. (Maybe that's what happens when you die, you become mature and wise and kept you with a mind too big for your body). (And Merlin look at him, he was 34, and spouting poetical nonsense, even if it is kinda appropriate for the situation. Well, it might not be, he  _ has _ lost most sense of social awareness, so he can't say for certain.) 

So, Harry is dead and Sirius doesn't the how or the why or the who, and by Merlin, does he want to murder the person who did this, because this was  _ Harry _ , The-Boy-Who-Could-Have-Been-His, the boy could have been raised by  _ Sirius _ , instead of whoever. (Who obviously hadn't done a good job if he was  _ dead.)  _

It turns out repeating the thing that shocks you won't help you come to terms with it, it  _ will _ make you ready to sob and breakdown and go into a emotional breakdown, and perhaps start saying the thing you are repeating out loud, which  _ will _ make you seem like a lunatic, which is what Sirius is  _ trying  _ to avoid. And well, he's already had his fill of breakdowns in life, so he stops his mantra of “oh god Harry is dead, oh god oh god oh god oh god Harry is dead”, as soon as he realises it's happening. 

Second is the absolute indignation because he is a mass murder! A serial killer! His name and face is on multiple, nay, thousands of posters, that are  _ everywhere _ , in newspapers too! How on  _ earth _ , does the boy need to ask, ‘who are you?’

Sirius Black has earned himself quite the reputation for his sudden onslaught of the Blacks infamous mania. Dear old Bella also had it, (which wasn't that much of a surprise considering the cesspool that's was the Black’s lineage), but that had developed years ago with the regular onslaught of the Cruciatus Curse from Voldemort, because of course Bellatrix Black had chosen her side years ago. (And it was not with the light). 

So while Bellatrix was more crazed and violent, she was more like the old rottweiler who you were used to snapping about your heels and trying to pinch a finger, and Narcissa the poised poodle ready with a snap of the jaws to teach and defend but never attack, and Sirius the pitbull trained to be good, until it snapped suddenly and attacked your children. (Of course Andromeda and Regulus are  _ always _ conveniently forgotten, for what were completely different reasons). 

Sirius is the Traitor. Sirius was the man who destroyed the young happy mother and father of Harry Potter. (For that is all History remembered them for, parents, lives cruelty cut short in the war, they forgot that they were far more than just martyrs, far far more). Sirius was hated. 

But Harry Potter didn't  _ know _ who he was.

Sirius Black has come here to confront the real traitor and expose him, to unleash revenge for all the years he had been practically tortured in Azkaban while the rat lazes around Scott-free munching on crackers, he was her for revenge and not much else, Azkaban has seriously skewed his priorities, so being exonerated wasn't at the top of his to-do list, taking revenge for twelve years in Azkaban, (after all, soul sucking depression does nothing but exasperate a history of the Black Madness). 

And in front of him is a ghost. The boy who he half  _ forgot  _ about when trapped in a vortex of rage that never allowed him to see past his own deluded sight. 

“Harry Potter?” Is the only words that escape him now. 

“No, I'm Harry Potter”, the boy grins cheekily, “you have to be  _ at least  _ dead to even pretend to be me!” He frowns guilty as the homeless looking man starts to hyperventilate, “Right, sorry! I was told I shouldn't joke about that sort of stuff just yet, could freak people out. So, who  _ are  _ you?” 

“Sirius Black,” He chokes out. Merlin, he hasn't been this… emotional in months, (well, emotions other than anger). 

“Oh,” Harry looks kind of  _ disappointed _ . “You're the convicted felon hell-bent on murdering me? I'm very sorry that your plans have been disrupted, seeing as I'm already dead.” He floats closer, eyes peering carefully at him behind glasses, “are you sure you're  _ that  _ murderer? You don't look like a murderer, or a traitor, more of a… homeless man who has lived in the forest for a couple of months.” 

Sirius’ mouth opens wide, he’s not really sure what he's surprised at, the insult, or the lack

of belief that he could be a killer, “I… shouldn't you be angry with me?” 

Harry nods slowly, “I think so, but I also faintly remember you when I was a baby, only vaguely but, I don't think you were the type to sell out my parents. But, for some reason people don't tend to believe the memories from a ghost's childhood. Do you wanna go to the kitchens? You look starving and I like watching the house elves cook”. 

Sirius nodd numbly and follows Harry to the kitchens. 

“I found the kitchens by accident over the summer, I was flying through the corridors and accidentally went through the wall- oh I don't actually know if there's a door…” Harry abruptly stops, pausing to think. 

“There is,” Sirius says, just… tickle the pear”. 

“Tickle the pear! Of course, that’s just obvious now I think of it,” Sirius opens to ask how exactly that's  _ obvious? _ , but Harry continues, “you should probably turn back into a dog, I think the elves may rat you out but I'm not sure”. 

Rat him out? Rat?  _ Rat! _ “That  _ rat!”  _ Sirius exclaims, somewhat ferally, “Ron's rat! It's Pettigrew! He's not dead! He hid as a rat!”

Harry’s face lights up, “Oh! That would explain why his name is on the Map!” The Weasley twins had shown him the map, asking if he had found any more passages as a ghost, they were weirdly accepting of the whole  _ thing _ , “we should deal with that after food! He hasn't done anything yet to Ron, he can wait half hour while you eat.” 

He passes on, through a wall, and Sirius notices they've been standing by the kitchens, and tickles the pear, racing after him, “But! Harry! Don't you want to avenge your parents death? He betrayed you! He's a traitor! He deserves a kiss!” 

Harry looks at him oddly for the last comment, “A kiss?” He shakes his head, greeting the House Elves with a smile as they continue their work replenishing any food trays that go empty in the hall right now, “They don’t want vengeance! I can say pretty confidently that they just want you out of Azkaban”. 

“How in  _ Merlin _ could you possibly know that?”, Sirius is ushered by House Elves to a table and automatically starts eating when a fork is pressed into his hand and a bowl of plain rice and chicken is set in front of him. “They're dead. Peter is out there! Sleeping next to Ron! Acting like a perfect little pet! How could you not want to do something!” He shovels a piece of chicken in his mouth. 

Harry visibly gags at the vision of Scabbers laying next to Ron, as a man, “Okay, that's pretty gross, but, you say they're dead? So am I!” Harry hopes he'll just leave it at that on how he knows, he doesn't particularly want to discuss his long conversation with his dead parents right now. “I think I'd know currently what they want better than anyone else!” 

There's a choking noise and rice is sprayed on the floor, obviously Sirius is being starkly reminded that his Godson is dead, no matter how much he's holding a conversation with him. “But… but!” 

“No! I'd rather you not in Azkaban again, or eaten by Dementors!” The young saviour’s face is contorted in pleading. He might be dead, and acting way more mature than a normal twelve year old confronted with a convicted felon, but he was still  _ young.  _ “I am going to expose Scabbers! McGonagall will do almost anything I ask, she feels so guilty over my situation,” he gestured over himself, “you are going to stay hiding in the kitchens, and have a bath! I might not have a sense of smell anymore but I can still tell!” 

Sirius is about to cry, there's a tell tale shining in his eyes and a catch in his throat. He might be free, he might have a chance to talk to Moony again, and connect with his Godson, “Okay..” he whispers, “I’ll stay here”. 

And the grown man sitting in front of him looks less like a convicted felon and more like a man who was wrongly accused and is feeling emotions for the first time in years and is faced with the prospect of getting free. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for it being so short! I found is really difficult to write this one, (I'm not very good at dialogue you may have noticed) and a lot of this is dialogue. The next chapter will be longer!


	5. you wanna find peace of mind

Convincing McGonagall was a lot simpler than it would have been. He remembers back in First Year when they tried to convince her of the Stone, but she refused. He grins sharply, if he’d known this was the solution to make her believe him, he would have died years ago! (He doesn't say that out loud though, McGonagall would have a stroke, she doesn't appreciate his puns very much.) 

He had left Sirius in the kitchens, asking the Elves kindly to supply a bath for Sirius, and took the direct route to the Great Hall (through the walls), which consequently meant he terrified a few students by suddenly appearing. 

Most of the other ghosts were in the hall, floating about and being very in the spirit of Halloween, (he giggled to himself for that pun), and the Hall was loud in raucous cheer and Halloween themed treats and pumpkins. 

He shot only somewhat leisurely over the head of the students getting a chorus of ‘hellos’ and waves from some of his year mates and the lower years, which he answered with a smile. It was funny, he was far more appreciative of the game  _ this  _ gave him, over him being The-Boy-Who-Lived, it was more to do with the fact that it alleviated most of his boredom to talk to everyone. 

Coming to a stop next to McGonagall, he smiled at Snape and Dumbledore. Dumbledore smiles back enthusiastically, and Harry noticed he had a small pot of lemon hard candy next to him,  _ did he go anywhere without it?  _ Harry decided he would make that his mission for the year, figuring that out, much less dangerous than basilisks and Dark Lords. 

Snape sneered back at him, though it had less venom in it than it did before, “you might be a ghost,  _ Potter _ , but that doesn't mean you're allowed to interrupt our dinners”. 

“Severus, really”, McGonagall tutted at him, and Snape harrumphed in return, taking a swig of pumpkin juice that certainly did not smell alcohol free, though Harry just smiled strongly in return. He knew that Snape really did enjoy his persona as the Bat of the Dungeons, and went far to keep it that way. 

He turned to McGonagall, “Professor! I need to speak to you. In private!”. 

“Can it not be said here, child?” Dumbledore spoke, having obviously any objections about interrupting a conversation that doesn't include him. Harry kept that in mind. 

“Well… if could, but it's information on where Sirius Black is, and I don't know if the student population should hear it..” he trailed off awkwardly, twisting his fingers. The teachers face dropped. 

“You know where that  _ mutt is _ ?” Snape spat, “you must tell us at once!” 

“I'll have you know I think he's more of a Irish Wolfhound,” Harry retorted, “a pure one at that”. 

Snape seemed to double take at Harry's knowledge of dogs, and arched an eyebrow. “My Aunt Marge is a dog breeder!” He said in defense. 

“Just tell us where he is. Dunderhead.” He muttered the last bit. 

McGonagall has stood up in the meantime, placing her napkin on her plate and placing the chair underneath the table, “We must go at once, to my office I think. Of course Albus will accompany us, and Snape too, as he’s already involved,” she said primly, and waited for the others to do the same. Once they did, they moved off together, McGonagall taking the lead. 

“I must know, Harry,” Dumbledore popped a lemon sweet in his mouth as they moved through the corridors, “why you wanted to tell McGonagall, and not me.” 

“Well, McGonagall is a Transfiguration Professor,” he replied easily. 

“You realise, I was also a Transfiguration Professor, my boy?”

“Ye-es, but I needed someone who is excellent at Transfiguration,” beside Harry came a choking noise, but when he glanced at Snape, his face was still deadpan. 

Dumbledore just coughed, “I am not one for self-aggrandisement,” he ignored the “yes,l you are”, from McGonagall”, “but you know I  _ am  _ the most powerful wizard on Earth at this moment?” 

Harry answered back obliviously, “I'm sure you are, Professor. I'm also sure you didn't defeat Grindlewald by turning a pig into a desk.” 

Snape couldn't hold back a laugh at that one, and Dumbledore actually coughed so hard, he spat out his lemon drop, “I suppose that’s true…” 

All too soon, they were at McGonagall’s office, and the Professor in question turned around to face Harry, “Where do you think he is, Harry?” 

“I'm not telling you.” 

The Scottish lady looked as if steam were going to erupt from her ears, and Snape's face showed nothing but derision, “then why-” 

“I'm not going to tell you, unless you put a spell on Scabbers”. 

“The Weasley  _ rat?”  _ Snape spat out disbelievingly. 

Harry nodded, “Yep! Then I’ll tell you exactly where he is and how to get to him.” 

“And how exactly do you know where he is?” Dumbledore asked, nonplussed at this whole situation, and if he didn't know better, Harry would say he was enjoying this situation. 

“I bumped into him in the halls, he was a bit surprised to see me like this,” he gestured to his ghostly figure. 

Snape slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, “And you didn't think to tell anyone immediately and get yourself out of there! Idiot child!” He hissed. 

“What was he going to do to me!” Harry replied indignantly, “I'm already dead!” 

There was silence after that, until McGonagall said with a resigned air, “Dipsy.” 

Harry turned his head to look at her confusedly, until there was a pop and an elf appeared, “Yes, Ma’am?” 

“Could you please find Scabbers, Mister Weasley’s pet fat and bring him to us?” She commanded. 

“Yes, Ma’am”, she bowed and apparated, not even hesitating at the odd request. 

Now they are waiting in silence for Dipsy to appear again. 

“The spell I want you to use is…” Harry pauses, thinking of the correct pronunciation, ignoring the way they jumped at the sudden noise and Snape's glare towards him, “ut reditus hominum.” He nods, “yep! ut reditus hominum.” 

McGonagall stares at him, “the Animagus Reversal spell?” 

“You can’t back out now!” Harry returns, “You promised!” 

“She did no such thing,” Snape growls, “why do you want Minerva to cast that on the  _ rat?”  _

_ “Isn’t it obvious _ ,” Harry starts with heavy sarcasm, to be cut off by Dumbledore. 

“It would seem, the young Mr Potter believes Scabbers to be a human in Animagus form. Is that right? Would you like to tell us who?”, Dumbledore looks at Harry over his glasses, eyes twinkling, and Harry suspects that he already knows. 

“And ruin the surprise?” Harry grins, this is the most fun he’s had in ages, the context of which is slightly horrific if you truly thought about it. Getting his former teachers to guess that Scabbers is truly his parents murderer, but recalling his conversation with his parents, he realises that he has come to terms with it. Death is funny that way. 

“Potter”, Snape warns, but just at that moment Dipsy appears, hands full with a struggling rat, whose writhing returns in vigour when he realises who he’s facing. 

“Just place him on the table please, Dipsy.” Dipsy did so, holding him in place. 

McGonagall stares at Harry, “are you sure?” And when Harry nods back in earnest, speaks the spell. 

The light blue light shoots out and hits the rat, the change is sudden and somewhat disgusting, and all too soon there is a hunched man with a disgusting smell and little clothing in Dipsy’s grasp, holding still in shock.

“I can't believe he was right!” Harry laughed, well, he did but that's besides the point. “Everyone, this is Peter Pettigrew, my parents murderer.” Everyone stays silent, even Dumbledore hadn't actually predicted this one correctly, “look at his hand! Harry reaches out and touches one of his arms, and Pettigrew held it out on reflex, where he shows a missing finger. 

“You mean to tell us you didn't actually know whether Black was telling the truth?!” Snape moves first, casting a  _ petrificus totalus  _ before the man could move. “That could have all been a trick!” 

“But it wasn't!” Harry retorts. 

“But it could have been!” 

“But it  _ wasn't”.  _

Snape presses his fingers around the bridge of his nose, “Foolish boy”. 

“Foolish  _ ghost _ ,” Harry corrects. 

Snape takes a breath but Dumbledore speaks first, “Boys, I think we have more pressing matters to absolve, yes?” 

Ropes now bind Pettigrew and the  _ petrificus totalus  _ spell taken off. The rat like man, (Harry didn't know if he naturally looked like the fat mouse from  _ the Great Mouse Detective _ , or if it was from the years he spent as a rat Animagus, but it was definitely a look), was quivering and blubbering out how it was all Sirius. 

McGonagall has begun to question him, her eyes shiny and voice tight with fury, questions along the lines of, “if it was Sirius that killed them, then why did you make us believe that he had killed you? Why did you cut off your finger?” 

The answers Peter have in return sounded like complete bullshit in Harry’s opinion. 

In the meantime, she had held up her side of the deal, so it was time to uphold his, “So, now you all agree that Sirius isn't actually responsible for all the crimes held against him-” 

“ _ Some  _ of the crimes,” Snape mutters. 

“- I can tell you… he's in the kitchens!” He announces like he wasn't interrupted. 

“The kitchens, you say? Dipsy, if you would be ever so kind as to bring Sirius Black up from the kitchens please,” Dumbledore pops another lemon drop into his mouth and relaxes in a chair. 

“He was in the kitchens?” The Potions Professor dead-pans, “He was in the kitchens?” 

“No, I  _ took _ him to the kitchens, he was on his way to the Gryffindor Tower. What!” He replies in turn to Snape's glare, “He looked hungry!” 

“And I  _ was hungry _ ,” Sirius in turn butts in, looking only slightly scared to be in front of Dumbledore, “Good to see you too, Snivellus”. 

“How was your stay in Azkaban, mutt-” 

“I told you! Not a mutt!” Harry says, annoyed. 

“-I have to say, you look slightly less deranged than I thought you would.” 

And it's true, now he's clean, and apparently wearing a largened version of the plain Hogwarts Robes, he looks almost like a functioning member of society. There might be a glint of craziness in his eyes, and he's got a faintness about him that makes him look similar to Snape- 

_ Omg they look almost identical.  _

Both with long lanky dark hair, pale waxy skin, both due to lack of sunlight, (one to Azkaban, one to most time spent in Dungeons), both dressed in complete black with tall gaunt features. They look like siblings. 

It starts with a giggle, one that he hurriedly tries to stifle it, but turns into full blown laughter, and as like when Snape discovered him crying, without breath, he can laugh as long as he wants to- or even if he doesn't want to. 

“Whatever is the matter?” Dumbledore asks, chortling, for its true that laughter is contagious. 

“It's them!” He points at Snape and Sirius, who next to each other, look even more alike than before, both wearing expressions of distaste, “their names both even start with an ‘S’!” 

It's obvious that they haven't been following his train of thought, not that he can fault them for that, they aren't mind readers, so they  _ all  _ look bewildered at his reaction- even Pettigrew. 

“Are you okay?” Snape and Sirius ask at the same time, a sarcastic ring to their voices, and then turn around and glare at each other. Which just sets Harry off further. 

Harry just nods and leaves the office, managing out a, “I'm gonna come back later, I'm sure you can sort this out better without me!” Between laughs and heads back to the Gryffindor Common room where he knows everyone will be by now. He also knows it’ll be easier for everyone without a literal ghost of their mistakes hovering over them. Besides, he's quite sure that death is making him more loose with emotions. Or maybe just the fact he can't be punished for anything, he's finally let himself loose and have fun. Whatever it is, he's happy with it. It's better than the Dursley's punishments hanging over his head. 

He’d love to stay longer and prove Sirius’ innocence, but he is, for all intent and purposes, a child, and not actually needed. He's sure they will call the aurors, and the whole thing will be sorted out, and if not, then he  _ will  _ get involved. 

Nearing the Gryffindor common room door, he sees the Fat Lady glare at him, “Password.” 

“I'm not a student anymore! And I'm a ghost, I can just go through you,” he points out. 

“But it feels awful,” she replied, pointing a wine glass at him, “Just say the password!” 

“Fine,” the ghost sighs, “Post Vita”. 

The door swings open, and he's assaulted with the loud noise of the common room, filled with its usual chatter. 

“Hey guys!” He floats through the common room and settles cross legged in the air next to his friends, “you’ll never believe what just happened!” 

He fills them in, their jaws dropping and Neville looked like he might faint. 

“You made friends with a supposed mass murderer?” Hermione levels him with a look, and suddenly he feels as if he's in  _ deep  _ trouble.

Ron just laughs at him, having that look directed at him way too often. “Can't help you there mate.” 

“Well, yes..” he stutters out, “but he  _ wasn’t  _ a mass murderer you see”. Hermione is a lot scarier than Snape, he decides, and he can't wait to tell him that. 

“That's not the point! What if he took you too the dementors and stole your soul! What if he took a wand and managed to petrify you, remember Nicholas last year?” She slams her book down on the table, “We already lost you, do you think we want to lose you again?” She stands up and flees to the dormitory. 

He winced as he hears a door slam. 

“Sorry, mate,” Ron says around a mouthful of Pumpkin Pie, “wanna play Gobstones?” 

Perfect, amazing Ron, who just went with whatever and was a great friend. 

“Sure!” 

It turns out ghost vision (which isn't as cool as it sounds) in place of years out of date prescription in his glasses means he has way better depth perception that when he was alive, which means he's  _ amazing _ at Gobstones. 

“Aha!” He exclaims as he wins another round, “that's 3 out of 5 wins for me,” he looks around, wishing there was a clock in the common room, “anyone know how much time has passed?” 

“About an hour,” Ginny supplies, where she’s sitting with her friends nearby when he realises no one around him is wearing a watch, “why, where does a ghost need to be?” 

Ginny’s a good friend too, he's sure that she  _ must _ have freaked out over the summer, because she went through some trauma that can't be dealt with over night, but she didn't let that stop her from being a great person with a great hand for minor hexes. 

“Oh, just providing a hand it capturing Peter Pettigrew and giving him to the dementors! Bye guys!” He waves goodbye and shoots out of the common room, hearing a grumble from the Fat Lady behind him. He rockets straight up, and tight through the walls arriving quickly at McGonagalls and moved through it. 

“Hi!” 

Pettigrew is gone now, and so is Sirius, as is Dumbledore. McGonagall and Snape are still there however, talking about something between them. 

“Where is everyone?” He prompts, settling cross legged at the same height as the chairs. Snape looks at him oddly and imperceptibly shifts his chair away. 

“At the Ministry. I gave the mutt some Veritaserum when Kingsley floo’d through, and we got the truth,” he shrugs, “it is a wonder why that didn't happen in the first place. Anyway, Kingsley took them through to the Ministry and they're planning for a trial and Sirius’ exoneration, Dumbledore went with them”. 

“So he’s gonna be free! Yes!” He grins and noticeably starts bobbing up and down in the air, “are they going to get rid of all the Dementors too? It's not like they need them anymore”. 

McGonagall nods in reply, “I just hope nothing happens for the rest of the year, it seems ever since you came to the school something happens. At least it's not during exam time this time”. 

Harry shrugs, “You've got a point, also, is Remus a werewolf?” 

Snape's jaw drops, “What?” 

“Is. Remus. A werewolf?” He says it slowly, as if he were speaking to a child, “it's not like I wouldn't notice, I follow him to the shrieking shack sometimes.” 

“Then why are you asking us, when you already know?” McGonagall points out, speaking primly, but looking exhausted with the events of the day, which he can't really hold against her.

“Fair enough. I guess I meant to say, “by the way, I know Remus is a werewolf”, is that better?” He says.

“How many people have you told?” The Potions master still isn't scarier than Hermione, but Harry doesn't think he should tell him that right now. 

“Everyone. But,” he waves his arm out, “no one believed me really, so I said see if he turns up tonight, because it's a full moon, and then we’ll see who's right.” He taps a finger on his mouth is mock thought, “most Gryffindors probably know, so other houses do too”. 

“And what did they think?” McGonagall asks, a note of nervousness in her voice.

“Oh they don't particularly care, he’s made a point not to  _ eat  _ anyone. Anyone that does has to face Hermione on a rant, so most people would rather just accept it and not make a fuss.” He says the last part with pride, “She is  _ way _ scarier than you, Sir.” 

“I see…”

“Thank you, Mr Potter”. Now  _ that's  _ a surprise to everyone, “you may have just saved us some very tricky explaining.” She starts in panic, “we haven't even told him that Sirius is innocent!” 

“Because he's currently a werewolf,” Harry supplies helpfully, “just tell him in the morning”. 

“In the morning, yes, in the morning. That's when we’ll deal with the rest of this. I think it's time for bed”. 

“But I'm a ghost! I don't have a bedtime!” The ghost in question exclaims to Minerva. 

“Yes, but I have a lot to deal with right now, Harry, maybe you can accompany Professor Snape down to the dungeons for your amusement instead.” 

Snape recoils, “Absolutely not. Goodnight, Minerva, Mister Potter.” Amd leaves in a manner which is probably meant to make it look like he’s not fleeing, when he really is. 

“Goodnight!” Harry calls back, “Goodnight, Professor”. 

“You might as well call me Minerva,” Minerva sighs out, “you are no longer a student.” 

“Goodnight, Minerva!” The name feels weird in his tongue, referring to his teacher by her first name years before he should have graduated. The melancholy settles over him as Minerva, stands up and leaves through a door to her quarters, “Goodnight, Harry”. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it would be longer! Also I wrote this in one night, and this is way quicker than I thought it would be. I had WAY too much enjoyment writing this.
> 
> Also!! Please comment! Leave a kudos! It's always easier to write knowing people actually enjoy your work! 
> 
> And if anyone wanted to know all my way to dramatic titles for what this is are from songs!

**Author's Note:**

> For Harry it's like.. he's done the job, he saved Ginny, he did what he was meant to, why does it matter that he's dead?  
For Ginny it's more like.. oh god he's dead, and it's sort of my fault but I can't deal with all this right now so I'm just going to pretend it's like I'm on an adventure with one of my brothers, and maybe cry a little


End file.
